


Everything is Soon

by mightydeafeningmouse



Category: High School Musical: The Musical: The Series (TV)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Bisexual E.J. Caswell, Bisexual Ricky Bowen (HSM: The Series), Crying, E.J. Caswell is a Good Friend, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Ricky Bowen (HSM: The Series), Insecurity, Ricky Bowen Needs A Hug (HSM: The Series), Ricky Bowen has Anxiety, Self-Esteem Issues, Soft Ricky Bowen (HSM: The Series), episode 1x09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22123567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightydeafeningmouse/pseuds/mightydeafeningmouse
Summary: Ricky's chest seizes with panic. The realization ofWhat if I forget my lines on stage?hits him like a physical thing, and Ricky's ribs are suddenly four sizes too small.
Relationships: Ricky Bowen & E.J. Caswell, Ricky Bowen/E.J. Caswell
Comments: 18
Kudos: 217





	Everything is Soon

**Author's Note:**

> TW for anxiety attacks & self-esteem issues
> 
> Stay safe :)

They're forty minutes away from the curtain opening, and Ricky has never felt more hyper in his life. None, literally none of his past experiences have left him feeling like this. 

_Is this stage fright?,_ he wonders, pacing along the cramped dressing room walls.

Ricky's never had stage fright before, but he didn't realize it would be this...intense. He thought stage fright was just, like, being nervous. He's been nervous before, obviously, but he's never been able to physically feel this unsettled before.

 _What if I fall on stage?,_ Ricky chews his lip. _God, what if I sing off key?_

He finds himself sliding his fingers through his hair and tugging on the ends. Ricky knows Kourtney will kill him, but he can't help himself. His entire body is thrumming with apprehension, and Ricky's not really sure how to clear his mind.

In effort to ease his mind, he starts reciting the show's song lyrics, hoping to find comfort in its familiarity. He hums and instinctively taps on his thigh to the beat of _'Get'cha Head in The Game'._

**Get our head in the game**

**Whoa**

**Let's make sure that we get the rebound**

**'Cause when we-**

Ricky slows to a stop, his addled brain suddenly going up two levels in stress.

He can't think of the next lyric. He forgot the fucking lyrics to his own song.

Ricky feverishly rubs his eyes. He shakes his head, willing the lyrics to come back to him. 

"Oh God, no, _no_ ," Ricky mutters in disbelief. How could he do this? How could he forget the words, how is he supposed to preform-

Ricky's chest seizes with panic. The realization of _What if I forget my lines on stage?_ hits him like a physical thing, and Ricky's ribs are suddenly four sizes too small. 

Through his nervousness, he had somehow never considered forgeting lines a possibility. It genuinely hadn't crossed Ricky's mind because he'd just assumed he'd remember. But, he forgot, just now. If he can't remember his words backstage, what will happen when he has to say them onstage?

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Ricky's actually shaking now, his anxiety transcending the corners of his mind and seeping into his limbs. 

He knows he's never had any business being in this production, even from day one, and now he's ruining it. 

Nini and EJ called it. Early in the year, they claimed he didn't care enough to put in the work, and clearly, he didn't work hard enough because he just forgot his own fucking solo.

But he cared. Ricky cared so fucking much, and it wasn't enough, because no part of him is ever enough for anyone-

The dressing room door creeks open, a head tentatively poking in. "Ricky?"

Ricky becomes painfully aware the person's identity as they step into the room.

"Um, everyone's looking for you," EJ offers, his soft voice echoing at an impossible volume. 

In the moment, Ricky's too wrapped up in himself to take note of the boy's awkward tone and avoident gaze. He really doesn't give a shit about the uncomfortable silence that follows. Ricky's too busy trying to force his lungs to accept air again. 

"Hey, man...are you feeling okay?" Ricky's head snaps up, wide, unfocused eyes locking to EJ's like a magnet. 

EJ's brow furrows, his expression morphing into one of concern. "Ricky, what's going on?"

Ricky moves his lips, trying to respond, but his body has somehow replaced his tongue with steel, and words are impossible. His eyes fill with tears of frustration as he chokes.

 _Anxiety attack,_ Ricky realizes too late.

EJ moves quickly toward him. If Ricky wasn't paralyzed, he'd flinch away. Instead, he stays put and lets EJ grab his shoulders.

"Ricky, _breathe._ "

Why can't EJ understand that that's physically not an option? Ricky wants to yell, and if he had enough air, he might've.

EJ's still holding onto him, squeezing his shoulders tight. "Ricky, look at me, c'mon," he says firmly. 

Ricky appreciates the sentiment, but he just _can't_. His brain is broken on overdrive. There are too many thoughts filtering in and out of his mind, so many that it's caused a clog. His mind-clog won't allow Ricky to process anything other than how shitty he feels. He's just...stuck. 

Ricky's chest is moving incredibly fast, but he's not getting air inside. He's helpless to the tears that make their way down his cheeks.

EJ, realizing his tactics aren't working, switches gears. He gently cups Ricky's trembling hands in his own, not once losing eye contact.

"Breathe with me," He says firmly. EJ draws in a dramatic deep breath, squeezing Ricky's hands in a death grip. Slowly, as EJ exhales, his hands get looser around Ricky's. 

It looks so easy, like it's not even costing EJ any effort. The next go around, Ricky stays focused on his hands, doing his absolute best to expand his airways.

"I-I can't," Ricky cries. His knees lock up and his skin feels hot and clammy, but he doesn't look away from EJ. 

"You can, Ricky," EJ encourages, demonstrating more effortless greedy breaths. 

EJ can hear Ricky's desperate wheezing breaths subside with every inhale. The rattle in the boy's chest is lessening, which is promising.

EJ tosses Ricky an easy grin, "You're doing great, just a few more."

After a minute of nothing but grasping hands and deep inhales, Ricky no longer wheezes with every breath. He's stares at EJ with glassy eyes.

"I-I don't think I can go on," Ricky whispers, looking to his feet.

EJ tilts his head. "Go on?" 

"The show," he replies miserably. EJ's eyes widen. He clutches Ricky's hands tight.

"Hey, no. Everyone out there is nervous," EJ gestures to the door, "but, it's not - Ricky, you're gonna do great." 

EJ pours as much genuinity and reassurance as he can into his words, but it seems to fly over Ricky's head.

"No, I, I'm gonna mess up. I-I can't," Ricky murmurs, shaking his head. He doesn't know what to say. Ricky refuses to go on stage only to ruin everyone's hard work.

"Hey," Ricky peeks up at the gentle tone. "You've been perfect in rehearsal. It won't be any different out there." 

Another tear slides down Ricky's cheek, and EJ is kicking himself for not being able to help.

"EJ, I'm not...Nini, Carlos, Ashlyn, Seb - they deserve better." Ricky pauses, biting his lip. " _You_ deserve better."

EJ's brow furrows. "It's not like that. We need you, Ricky, you can't just..." EJ trails off, not knowing where to go. A moment passes, and EJ squeezes Ricky's hand before trying again, this time gentler.

"Ricky, you've put in your all." Ricky's watery eyes snap to EJ's, watching him intently. "You worked hard, and you make a damn good Troy. You've earned this part, and you deserve it more than anyone."

Ricky gnaws on the inside of his cheek. EJ's never said anything nice to him, and it's a bit overwhelming to be validated by him. Not that Ricky's complaining.

"I'm gonna fuck up. I'm not," Ricky cringes as his voice breaks. Shame coils low in his stomach. "I'm not good enough."

EJ's heart aches as he feels Ricky's fingers tremble.

"I know you feel like that now," EJ says softly, "but once you're out there and in character, I promise you, you won't have the time to be nervous. We've been practicing to hell and back, Ricky, everything's practically muscle memory. You won't mess up." 

EJ speaks with so much certainty and confidence that Ricky finds himself believing the taller boy. Ricky tugs his hands away from EJ's to scrub the dried tears off his face. 

"Why are you being nice to me?" Ricky was aiming for a casual tone, but the question comes out ten times more vulnerable than anticipated, making him sound like a fucking preschooler. 

EJ's eyes soften. "You're new to all this. We've all been in your shoes, trust me. Anyone could've walked in on you and they would've done the same." He looks away and pauses briefly before adding, "And, I like talking to you."

Ricky shoots EJ a tiny self-consious smile at the remark. His stomach is still in knots, and his head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, but at least he's not crying and hyperventilating anymore.

"C'mon," EJ exhales, pointing at the clock on the wall. "Twenty minutes. Let's do this."

EJ heads for the door, but Ricky swiftly grabs his elbow.

"Um," Ricky fiddles with the hem of his shirt, "Thank you. A ton. I...appreciate it."

EJ grins in response. "Let's go crush it," he says, leading a smiling Ricky out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope u enjoyed!!
> 
> Give me your thoughts and feelings below :)


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